


the fools who follow

by Engineer104



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Claude's a scheming schemer who schemes and Felix and Annette suffer, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Cindered Shadows DLC Spoilers, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Gangs, Injury, Mutual Pining, Very very minor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24621253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Engineer104/pseuds/Engineer104
Summary: Only a few weeks back at the monastery and Claude’s already dragging Felix into one of his foolish schemes...underground. He just hopes it won’t get him and Annette killed.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 4
Kudos: 56





	the fools who follow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NightMereBear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightMereBear/gifts).



> A late birthday present for Mere, who prompted this, and because she loves Claude and action! This has plenty of action, but if you still want some you should totally check out her works. Also takes some loose inspiration from her fic [Music Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24529780), which is lots of fun and is also netteflix featuring Claude! 
> 
> Also a shoutout to [Tiffo](https://twitter.com/relic_crusher), whose birthday was also last week (was there something about last week?), and whose [amazingly wonderful battle couple netteflix art](https://twitter.com/relic_crusher/status/1269677419578834945?s=20) that you should definitely check out and shower with praise was very much on the brain while i wrote the fight at the end.
> 
> This takes place very early in Verdant Wind, probably within the first month (so before Gronder Field for sure). Anyway, without further ado, happy reading, and hope you enjoy!

Felix hadn’t believed Claude von Riegan when he explained that a whole underground society functioned relatively untouched under Garreg Mach Monastery. He laughed it off, dismissing it as useless as the mythical city of gold that supposedly lay in Fodlan’s eastern mountains or as fantastical as all the worst tellings of Loog’s victory on the Tailtean Plains.

But when Claude suggested that they might find aid in “Abyss”, the _professor_ agreed it might be worthwhile.

Felix would sooner beg their enemy for help than anyone in a place that didn’t exist, yet he and Annette followed Claude through a hidden tunnel that wound deeper and deeper underground.

A flame Annette conjured lit the tunnel around them. Stale, earthy air surrounded them, and Felix thought he could spy weathered carvings along its walls. Their footsteps echoed the further they walked, and water dripped from somewhere ahead or behind them. His skin crawled at the close confines, and he lurked close to Annette, wary of pursuit or of ambush hidden in shadows.

“Why did you ask us along?” Felix asked Claude, not for the first time. He all but _strolled_ ahead of them, his hands clasped behind him and his great bow Failnaught slung across his back a foolhardy beacon.

“Well, I needed Hilda to keep an eye on things on the surface,” Claude explained, “and I don’t _quite_ trust Lorenz not to say the wrong things to any Abyssians.”

“And you trust Felix for that?” Annette blurted. Felix shot her a look, but when she rolled her eyes he sighed, unable to deny her logic.

Claude glanced over his shoulder at them with an untrustworthy smirk tugging at his lips. “You’ll fit in just fine, I think,” he offered, “and Annette’s a pretty good counter to you so I wouldn’t be surprised if you were on your best behavior for her.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Felix muttered the same instant Annette said, “What are you talking about, Claude?”

But Claude ignored them as he faced forward again.

“Is the objective really to ‘fit in’?” Felix mumbled under his breath right as the tunnel, sloping ever downward, widened into a sprawling network.

Other people crossed between tunnels and around columns of stalactites and stalagmites, convening with each other while running…errands. Sconces with lit torches lined the walls, and before he knew it they stepped through another entryway and into a bustling marketplace that mirrored the one outside the monastery.

Felix stared, his feet grinding to a halt as he took it all in. A place like this…how big was the settlement this marketplace served? And how long did this place lay under their noses?

Annette sucked in a breath, her head tipped back to take it all in. “Wow…”

“You’re gaping,” he observed, unable to keep a smirk off his face.

She glared at him from the corner of her eye and, though color tinted her cheeks, grumbled, “Shut up, Felix.”

Her harsh tone made him squirm, but maybe it was no more than he deserved.

“Welcome to Abyss!” Claude said with a sweeping gesture. “Land of opportunity and refuge for everyone from Church heretics to Kingdom deserters.” His gaze slid over to them, thoughtful and searching in a way that made Felix’s skin crawl.

Beside him Annette shifted in obvious discomfort, and he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword to resist the urge to take hers.

“Now that we’re here,” Claude said, oblivious - or else failing to remark - on their reaction to his words, “why don’t we visit the tavern for a drink? My treat to thank you for escorting me.”

Felix’s eyes narrowed; Claude never failed to have an ulterior motive, and he didn’t trust that smile or the way he appraised him and Annette. He crossed his arms and said, “Let’s get on with our business first. If we have to fight our way out, it’s best we stay sober.”

Claude clapped his shoulder - Felix shrugged his hand off - and said, “Felix, why do you assume we’ll have to fight our way out? I assure you, this may be a den of outcasts, but aside from a few oddballs, these people live peacefully.”

Felix eyed the Relic he carried like a badge of honor and scoffed, “Then you would bring the war to them?”

“Not all of them, no,” Claude promised. “Just to my contact. Annette, why don’t you help Felix loosen up a little? We’ll stand out too much if he’s tense.”

“I don’t think Felix is the one who’s making us stand out, Claude,” Annette argued, to Felix’s gratification.

“Well, I still insist.” And with that he grabbed them both by the arms and tugged them along the street towards a chamber from which streamed light, laughter, and music.

It sounded untouched by war as Claude claimed, crowded with grinning patrons and with a few musicians playing their instruments on a raised stage. Glasses clinked and chairs scraped against the floor, and after the eeriness of the near-abandoned and dilapidated monastery the noise made Felix grit his teeth with discomfort.

He turned when he felt eyes on him, but rather than the eyes of a too-curious patron he found Annette. “What?” he said, his voice low and for her ears alone.

“Nothing, you just looked—nothing.” She tore her gaze away.

His chest tightened - yet one more complaint to add onto a lengthening list - but he didn’t press.

Claude rushed to a table the instant a couple other patrons vacated it before a server could clean it up. When a barmaid came over to collect a handful of dirty dishes and empty tankards, he pressed a couple coins into her hand and murmured something into her ear that made her laugh.

Felix rolled his eyes but, when offered a chair, he sat. Annette perched in one beside him, looking as tense as he felt with her hands clasped in her lap and her eyes roving around the well-lit and loud tavern. Her foot peeked out from under the hem of her dress, tapping along with the rhythm of the music.

He scanned the patrons, finding obvious weapons and noting symbols on clothes. Many of them wore worn uniforms years out of fashion, with holes patched over and threadbare sleeves and hems. His breath stuck in his lungs when he spied a giggling woman in the robes of a warlock with the Crest of Fraldarius stitched in blue thread over her breast, but on second glance she looked too deep in her cups to notice the man sitting at the same table as her, much less one all the way across the room.

The barmaid returned bearing three tankards in one hand and a platter of something deep-fried in the other. Felix barely heard whatever she said to them before retreating again, but when Claude slid one of the tankards across the table to him, he contemplated taking it and pouring it over his stiffly styled hair.

Instead, he advised Annette, “Don’t drink.”

“I’m not an idiot,” she retorted.

“I know you’re not,” he grumbled. He wished her irritated tone didn’t sting as much as it did.

Claude, on the other hand, drank quite deeply from his. Felix thought him remarkably incautious for a man with a penchant for slipping poison into his foes’ meals and beverages and even said, “There’s no way no one here doesn’t know who you are.”

“You’d be surprised, Felix,” Claude said. “People here are quite disconnected from reality; like I said, I doubt that, aside from a few newcomers, anyone here even knows about the war.”

He snorted, skeptical. “Then they’re blind,” he said. How could anyone fail to notice a war that engulfed the whole continent lying above their heads?

“The only war in Abyss is the turf wars,” Claude offered. “People come here to escape the one on the surface; they wouldn’t bring that mess with them.”

Felix couldn’t imagine living so ignorant, and maybe that was why his temper soured (more than usual). He glared at the contents of his tankard, which smelled worse than a swill; he doubted his refusal to drink it would waste it.

“Say, that’s a nice sword you have there,” a man cut in then. He sauntered over from a nearby table, a gold tooth glinting in the light when he smiled. “You looking to hire out? I could use some more muscle, if you know how to use it.”

“Get lost,” Felix told him, barely sparing him a glance.

“Oh, are you sure?” He nodded at Claude. “The name’s Gangrel, and I make Abyss my kingdom. I’ll even pay you three times what the lordling is.”

Felix’s hands curled into fists, his jaw tightening, but before he could retort Annette snapped, “His sword isn’t for sale.”

The stranger - Gangrel - eyed her in a way that made Felix reach for his sword. “I didn’t ask you, girl,” he sneered. “I asked him.”

“Peace, friend,” Claude finally deigned to cut in. He flashed the stranger a smile and said, “It’s my friends’ first time in Abyss. Surely you understand why they might be a little…jumpy.”

Felix could hit Claude for bringing even more attention to him like that, but he contented himself by imagining it instead.

“Ah, surface dwellers, are you?” Gangrel smirked but said, “Then why don’t I show them around?”

“I think they’re happy with me,” Claude said. He smiled, but something dangerous lay behind it. “Move along, sir; right now we have no quarrel with you.”

“Bold talk for a surface-dwelling lordling,” Gangrel retorted. “Unlike me, you have no power here.”

Claude interwove his fingers behind his head, looking the picture of relaxation and carelessness. “Maybe so,” he said, “but at least I don’t need to buy my friends.”

Felix thought Claude claiming him a friend was a tall order, but rather than rolling his eyes he leveled a glare at the man, hoping he’d get the message soon and leave them to play along with whatever inane scheme he’d concocted.

Instead, Gangrel crossed his well-muscled arms, exposing the cruel ax hanging from his belt, and said in a low, threatening voice, “This is my turf you’re trespassing on, lordling, and anybody that crosses it has to pay a toll. So what will it be?” His steely gaze swiveled from Claude to Felix to…Annette. “Which of your friends do you like best?” He rested a meaty hand on Annette’s shoulder.

Fury gripped him, so Felix didn’t wait. He bolted to his feet and swung his fist into the man’s jaw.

Gangrel reeled back, clutching his face and groaning, but before Felix could feel too proud of himself the tavern fell silent. Chair legs screeched against the floor, and several other men stood and approached.

Claude buried his face in his hands and mumbled, “Oh, Felix, you never fail to disappoint.”

He had no chance to demand what he meant with these thugs converging on them. Annette mirrored him, standing with a pulse of light flaring around her.

Gangrel, the stranger with the gold tooth, lifted his face, revealing a cut lip where he must’ve bitten himself, and glowered at Felix before lunging for him. He lurched backwards, his heart in his throat, but not fast enough to avoid the hand yanking his collar.

Felix lashed out again, his racing heart pumping anger and energy through his body, and again his punch connected with Gangrel’s face. But this time he was ready and stood his ground.

Gangrel threw him bodily the same instant a wind whipped into life, suddenly and violently, tearing at his clothes before it swept past him and targeted the man with the gold tooth and his cronies.

Felix stumbled and found his footing, his breath short. The men reached for their weapons, in search of retribution, but before Annette could blast them again or Felix could yank sword from sheath Claude seized them both by the back of their capes and announced, “Time to make a strategic retreat!”

Annette blasted their assailants with a spell anyway. Their clothes flew into their faces as the wind knocked their tankards off the table and chairs fell. Shouts rose from the patrons, far different from the disgustingly cheerful atmosphere when they entered, but with a tempest funneling through the tavern no one could give chase as Claude yanked them away and out into Abyss.

They ran, and once they ducked around a corner Annette collapsed, gasping for breath, her face red. Felix knelt beside her, worry gripping him, and touched her shoulder. “Annette, are you all right?”

Claude rounded on them, and at first Felix braced himself for a scolding - not that he cared, not really, not when he never would’ve let that bastard get away with threatening Annette - until he…grinned. “That was perfect, both of you.” He clapped his hands together in obvious, unrestrained glee. “Excellent. Now we just have to wait and see how long it takes for him to show his face.”

Annette gaped at him before a scowl twisted her face. “Y-you— _Claude_?” she exclaimed, apparently at a loss for words.

“What in the name of _Abyss_ are you talking about?” Felix demanded. He stood, helping Annette to her feet on his way (and reluctant to let her go, despite himself), and rounded on Claude.

He smiled sheepishly, his hands raised in an infuriatingly placating manner, and admitted, “You worried we would attract too much attention? Well, that was exactly what I wanted.” He rested his hands on his hips and explained, “Take one of my jumpiest and most suspicious allies along with the conveniently skilled warlock he fancies and wait for the chaos to unfold, although”—he winked at Annette—”you by far exceeded my expectations, Annette. Very nice spell work.”

Felix’s face grew hot, but he wasn’t sure if it was anger about Claude’s inane scheme or embarrassment at what he insinuated, and he refused to even glance at Annette to assess her reaction. “You’re a fool,” he snapped. “One of us could’ve been seriously hurt or _worse_ thanks to your stunt.”

“But you weren’t!” Claude said. “I had full confidence we could all escape, and besides”—he reached behind him—”why do you think I brought Failnaught? The worse case scenario was it would get—” He cut himself off, his eyes widening before he frowned and mumbled, “Did my scheme work a little _too_ well?”

“ _Claude_ ,” Annette hissed, and when Felix at last mustered the courage to look at her she glared at Claude, her face bright red and alight with fury.

“So, uh, looks like we had the worst case scenario after all,” Claude confessed. He turned his back to them and pointed, showing no Failnaught in sight.

* * *

Not only did they succeed in angering one of the most notorious gang leaders in Abyss, but they also lost the ancient Relic of House Riegan. Perfect, just _perfect_.

At least it didn’t make them stand out so much, but they didn’t know which denizens of Abyss worked for - or, more likely, were threatened by - Gangrel and his gangsters and would be on the lookout for a smirking “lordling” in a puffy yellow coat, a disgruntled black-haired swordsman who wore too many layers, and a petite warlock with bright hair and who left disaster in her wake.

“So you wanted to get someone’s attention?” Annette said. Her hair was plastered to her face with sweat from all her casting and the running they’d done, but her eyes were still bright with energy, to Felix’s relief. “Who are you looking for, Claude? You owe us some answers for putting us through this.”

Felix agreed, though he wasn’t sure he could bring himself to care anymore. A part of him wanted to grab Annette and abandon Claude and retreat back to the surface, leave the man who brought them into this mess to hunt down his own damn Relic himself, but he doubted he’d be able to navigate the maze of Abyss alone.

And he knew she’d never abide by it. Despite her irritation with the situation, she respected Claude enough to work with him.

It made something hot and unpleasant stir in his chest.

“Well, we’re looking for another gang leader - don’t look at me like that, Annette, this guy’s not nearly as bad! - that me and Teach had a run-in with five years ago,” Claude explained. “He’s got a pretty firm network here in Abyss, but you can’t just waltz up to a random Abyssian and ask them where you can find Yuri Leclerc. You have to…attract his attention.”

“And you think we’ve succeeded in that by angering a rival gang leader?” Felix demanded. He crossed his arms and glared at Claude.

He smiled. “I didn’t expect to encounter one of his rivals, no,” he admitted. “That was a…happy coincidence.”

“You and I have very different definitions of happy,” Felix seethed.

Claude rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t know _happy_ if it pulled a sword and stabbed you through the chest, Felix.”

“That doesn’t sound very happy at all,” Annette mused.

“Why don’t you sing a song about the definition of ‘happy’ for us?” Claude asked her, his smile softening ever so slightly. “Might make this whole ordeal look a little brighter, yeah? Creepity creeping around Abyss…”

Felix’s hands curled into fists, his heart thumping as if it identified a new foe for him to challenge, and his mood only turned worse when Annette’s cheeks reddened and she grumbled, “Really, Claude?”

Claude laughed, his irritatingly analytical gaze sliding sideways to Felix before drifting back to Annette. “Anyway, as soon as you feel like you’re up to walking again, we’ll get going. Hide in plain sight somewhere in Barrow Street, and maybe Yuri will find us.”

“Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary.”

Felix’s hand fell to his sword as he spun around, darting between Annette and the newcomer. Out of the corner of his eye he spied Claude looking as relaxed as ever, but with his own body so tense it might snap he didn’t dare drop his guard.

The newcomer approached alone, his cape flapping behind him and the Abyssian torchlight illuminating a pale, painted face. “You’ve got my attention,” he said, his gaze slipping past Felix. “What can I do for you, Claude? Or should I say—”

“Aha, Yuri,” Claude cut him off, “you can’t use mine unless you tell me yours.”

“All right, fair enough,” the newcomer - Yuri - said with a wry smirk. “What can I do for all of you?”

While he and Claude chatted, Felix took the moment to scan their surroundings more closely. They hid in a shadowy, narrow alley that reeked of mold and mildew, its confines so close his stomach twisted at the idea of an enemy cornering them here for a fight. He doubted two of them could fight abreast and defend their retreat - to where? - even if this Yuri with his slight build knew how to use that sword dangling from his hip.

“Can you tell if he brought anyone with him?” Felix asked Annette in a low voice. They drifted a little away from them - he insisted to himself it was to scout around, though he couldn’t deny some part of him wanted to speak to Annette without Claude hovering so close.

Annette shook her head and confessed, “I can’t. There’s not enough…air circulation down here for me to sense anything without casting an actual spell.”

Felix tilted his head back to look up, but the flimsy structures bracketing them in gave way to a high, cavernous ceiling hidden in dense shadow, where feeble torchlight couldn’t reach.

How could a place that felt so small feel so _big_?

“I can’t believe Claude,” Annette grumbled from beside him, tearing him from his thoughts. “It’s one thing to get us to come down here with him, but then to drag us into one of his schemes without telling us anything?” She kicked the wall, only to wince when her toes connected a little too hard.

Annoyance gripped him anew; he never turned down the opportunity to fight, but Claude walked them right into an ambush without the slightest hint of a warning. “He’s a real villain,” Felix agreed.

“Oh, no, he’s not a villain, no,” Annette argued with a laugh. “He’s really more of a scheming schemer who schemes with his…schemes!”

He scowled, not sure why her denial of Claude’s…villainy rankled him so much. He crossed his arms and glared at his boots before saying, “Yet you seemed oh so friendly with him.” And she barely had with him, not since they both returned to Garreg Mach less than a moon ago, not since all those old, buried feelings he dismissed as some remnant of childhood rushed back to him after five years apart.

“What?” Surprise laced her voice, but he refused to look at her, fearing her reproach, fearing some accusation of how he so eagerly cut off contact with his old classmates, with _her_. “What’s that supposed to mean, Felix?”

He rolled his eyes at her. “You tell me.” And maybe he shouldn’t even blame her for being _friendly_ with Claude von Riegan when he took to avoiding her at every turn before tonight.

“Well, since you did think him a villain, he does have more in common with _you_ than he does with me!” Annette snapped. She waved her arms emphatically when he dared glance at her.

“What?” His gaze snapped up, that same flicker of irritation that never seemed to fade flaring back into life and dousing the hurt tugging at his chest. “I’m nothing like a…what did you call him? A ‘schemer who schemes’!”

Annette snorted, and her hands rested on her hips when she said, “He walked in on me singing one time just like you, and tried to tell me what _my_ songs were about just like you, so that’s quite enough in common, in my opinion!”

“That’s one thing!” Felix growled. “I’ve already lost count of all the things he’s done just tonight that I’m not nearly foolish enough to do.”

“Like what?” Annette demanded. “He walked us right into a fight, and you just _love_ fighting!”

“Like—like deliberately putting you in danger!” he blurted.

Her eyes widened, and she actually took a step back. His heart skipped a beat, and he almost - almost - wished he could take back his words or make some excuse for them - why would he deliberately put _anyone_ in danger when he preferred to fight alone?

But before either of them found the words to speak into the ensuing silence, their (undesirable) companions approached them.

“And what’s in it for me?” Yuri wondered.

“For starters, you can help me build a better, more open Fodlan,” Claude explained, and maybe Felix ought to listen more closely to this tight-lipped master tactician confessing his plans, if only he could bother pretending he cared. “Even you and yours are welcome there; you won’t have to hide down in here anymore.”

“Oh?” Yuri’s lips curved into a thoughtful smile. “Sweeten the deal for me, Claude, and I’ll give it a little more consideration.”

Claude stared at him, his arms crossed and a frown on his face. “…really? We can think of you helping me as repayment for when Teach and I helped you and your Wolves in their predicament five years ago.”

“So we can,” Yuri conceded. “Consider me interested, but that doesn’t solve your little Relic problem, does it?”

Claude sighed but admitted, “No, it does not.”

“Well, as a sign of goodwill,” Yuri said, “I’ll send my people on the hunt for it. A weapon like that won’t stay hidden for long, even in Abyss.”

“Thank you,” Claude said. “Believe it or not, I appreciate that. I suppose you’ll be expecting some form of repayment?”

“Let’s consider this a favor for a friend and _potential_ ally,” Yuri said, smiling. “In the meantime, the three of you”—his eyes roved towards Felix and Annette—”ought to sit tight. You angered some pretty dangerous people. Not that I think you can’t take them, but it might be for the best if you want to return to the surface unscathed.”

Felix crossed his arms and scowled. “And how long do we have to ‘sit tight’?” he asked. “Until they find us hiding _here_?”

“No, of course not,” Yuri said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You’re on my turf now, and believe it or not, even nasties like Gangrel respect that.”

Felix snorted, not bothering to conceal his skepticism, but before he could retort Annette’s hand rested on his arm. He resisted the urge to flinch away from the warmth of her touch and instead only glanced at her to find her watching him, her brow furrowed but her expression otherwise inscrutable.

“Unfortunately,” Yuri continued without paying their silent exchange any mind, “once I do find it, it’ll be up to you to get it back. I’m as subject to the laws and whims of Abyss as Gangrel is. But trust me”—he flashed Felix a smile that was probably reassuring if he could be so easily reassured by a perfect stranger too much like Claude for his liking—”you won’t have to wait long.”

* * *

Yuri was right.

They spent the next hour sulking in the alley. Annette, who seemed to have forgiven Claude for his role in their dilemma, chatted with him _quite_ easily, and enough that Felix considered wandering away just so he wouldn’t have to listen or watch them sit close enough for their arms to brush. His stomach turned unpleasantly, and every time he felt eyes on him they were Claude’s, dark and analytical and enough to make his skin crawl.

Annette, almost as often, glanced at him, but he always made sure to tear his gaze away before their eyes met. He tried to convince himself he was content letting her voice wash over him and pretending it was another sleepless night the memory of it kept him company.

A different voice, one that sounded irritatingly like Sylvain, insisted he ought to engage her in conversation himself, that Annette had a good heart and wouldn’t hold his five years of silence against him since they _were_ at war, and that she might even prefer his company to Claude’s.

Felix told that voice to stuff it; Sylvain tended to lie more often than not anyway, even to him.

Yuri returned on silent feet, but Felix bolted upright in a heartbeat with his sword hand falling to his hip. But he raised his hands and said, “Peace, friend, I bring news.” He turned to Claude and announced, “I know who has your Relic, though you won’t like it.”

Claude sighed and guessed, “Gangrel, is it?”

Yuri smiled without humor. “You got it. I wish I could offer you help in this, but if you are looking to drag my men into your war, the last thing I can afford is embroiling them in a turf war at the same time.”

“I understand,” Claude said, nodding. “I think we can handle coming up with a plan with just the three of us, right, Annette?”

“Sure,” she said, shrugging. “It’s just that we don’t know the terrain, and we’re dealing with a man without a Crest who’s stolen a Relic…again.”

Felix stiffened, a knot of dread tangling his abdomen; how ironic he’d just been thinking of Sylvain too.

“So long as we’re quick, and so long as Gangrel doesn’t try using Failnaught, we won’t have to deal with any Demonic Beasts,” Claude reassured them. “So, Yuri, where do we go?”

Once Yuri explained how to retreat to Gangrel’s hideout, deep in his gang’s turf - and deeper into Abyss - they slipped away from the relative safety of their alley and emerged back onto Barrow Street. The crowd hadn’t abated in the slightest since they fled along it from the tavern, and dimly Felix wondered how they kept track of days and nights with no sun, if days and nights even existed at all.

Eventually their feet took a different, winding path that wound even deeper underground, the tunnel ahead swallowed by darkness. Fear clawed up his throat just as he wished he could claw his way back up to the surface, the air thick in his lungs, but he swallowed it back down.

The hilt of his sword in his hand offered him little protection against the dark.

“W-we’ll be fine,” Annette murmured from beside him. “It’s not even that dark, we’ll be fine.”

His hand found hers instead, driven by an impulse he barely understood, but rather than pulling away like he half-expected she pressed her palm against his and tangled their fingers. Tension seemed to ease from her body, like she deflated, and even Felix felt his heartbeat steadying as they followed Claude.

He felt more than saw the tunnel widen, their footsteps echoing from further away and the reflection of Annette’s small flame along the damp walls spreading out more. Even the air tasted sweeter now, more like the air they breathed on the surface.

Felix didn’t let go of Annette’s hand until Claude’s arm swung out to stop him. He readied his own sword - Felix couldn’t fault him for failing to bring along a backup weapon, if nothing else - and said in a low voice that wouldn’t carry, “All right, how are we going to do this?”

Yuri had passed along a vague description of Gangrel’s hideout along with a rough schematic on paper. Likely as not they already entered the network of tunnels, so all that was left was finding the chamber where he held “court”: the widest cavern of all, with a sort of platform at the center and two narrow bridges leading towards it on either side.

 _“I wouldn’t fall off the bridges either if I was you,”_ Yuri had warned them. _“No one knows how deep that trench goes, or how long it takes to reach the bottom.”_

“Let’s see…” Claude unrolled the schematic Yuri hastily drew for them. “According to Yuri, Gangrel fancies himself something of a king, so let’s see if we can’t pretend we’re plaintiffs to his court.”

Felix shot him a skeptical look. “And what will you do, just ask for him to return Failnaught? I doubt he’s enough of a fool not to recognize its value.”

“Or recognize us from the tavern,” Annette mumbled, her brow furrowed with worry.

“Maybe he’s more magnanimous than he seemed when we met!” Claude argued, but even Felix could tell he didn’t believe it. “All right, fine. There are two entrances into this…throne room, right? I’ll enter as a plaintiff from the front”—he traced the most direct path into the chamber—”and the two of you enter through the back.” His fingers walked the path around and along the bridge towards the center of the schematic. “Unless I miss my guess, he’ll be carrying Failnaught on his person; he doesn’t sound like the sort to be in a hurry to sell it.”

“He’ll recognize you,” Annette insisted. “Maybe Felix and I should be the…plaintiffs; we can say we decided we didn’t like working with you after all and changed our minds about his offer.”

“Is he going to believe that after Sir Punchy here broke his jaw?” Claude wondered.

Felix’s own jaw twitched at the nickname.

“He’s more likely to believe that than that you’re a plaintiff,” Annette said. “And Failnaught’s best in your hands anyway, so you should recover it first.”

“Point taken,” Claude said. He sat back on his heels, frowning thoughtfully as his gaze drifted from Annette to Felix. “Actually, Annette, you should come with me. Felix can pose as the plaintiff; he’s probably a decent enough actor to manage a few lines, right?”

“What?” Felix’s hands curled into fists, his heart skipping a beat in alarm. “But Annette—”

“Relax, she’ll be fine with me, and she’s not bad in a pinch either even if she is oh so painfully clumsy.” Claude flashed him a smile - ignoring Annette’s indignant exclamation - that he knew he couldn’t trust, but there was something…vaguely reassuring in it. He clapped Felix on the shoulder, and it took all his willpower not to shrug his hand away. “If anything, you’ll be in the most danger with no backup and Gangrel’s attention on you.”

His jaw tightened, his stomach lurching unpleasantly, but he couldn’t find any fault in Claude’s logic.

And he _hated_ it.

“You all right with that change of plan, Annette?” Claude said, taking Felix’s silence as acquiescence.

Annette’s gaze landed on Felix for a too long heartbeat before her eyes slipped shut and she nodded. “It’s…reasonable,” she agreed with obvious hesitation. “I just, um, Felix?”

“What?” he said, more tersely than he meant.

Annette didn’t flinch; in fact, her lips quirked almost as if she expected his temper to turn fouler. “You be careful, all right? I won’t be there to protect you like I was in the tavern.”

His face flushed, and his eyes flitted down to the schematic as if he could glean anymore meaning from it. “I’ll be fine,” he mumbled. “Don’t let your scheming schemer get you hurt or—or worse.”

“Don’t worry, Annette’s in good hands with me,” Claude reassured him, though after the day - or night, or whatever it was down here - they’d had Felix could only glare at him. He raised his hands and smiled. “Felix, seriously, you worry too much. We’ll be running back to Teach with good news before you know it.”

“Maybe you don’t worry enough,” he muttered under his breath. But together they stood, a plan of sorts in place.

Before they parted to enact their different parts of it, Annette approached Felix. He froze when she flashed him a fleeting, faltering smile, when something stirred in his chest and he couldn’t muster the words to ask her what she wanted.

“I didn’t get to say this while we were waiting for Yuri,” she said in a low voice he knew meant she spoke to him and him alone, “but…you can’t stop me from being put into danger, or whatever it is you’re worried about, while we’re in the middle of a war.”

A sigh escaped him, and he bowed his head and admitted, “I know. I just think _his_ ”—he jerked his head towards Claude—”actions have been far too foolhardy for my liking. Schemes like that are less like, well, _schemes_ and more like gambles.”

“If it’s any consolation—”

“It’s not,” he said automatically.

“—I spent a year watching you take stupid ‘gambles’, and I don’t even know how long I’ll still have to. So long as we’re fighting a war, right?”

Felix’s chest tightened at how…dejected she sounded then, and before he could stop himself he grasped her hand again. “I don’t take on battles I can’t win,” he reminded her.

“No,” Annette said, her gaze sharp and glowering, “but you do take on battles you still might not.”

Felix wondered when the cheerful girl who yelled at him for eavesdropping and tried to do his chores to bribe him learned how to discern him so quickly, so easily, and why she still remembered after five years apart. His skin prickled, but he wasn’t sure it was…uncomfortable.

Maybe, sometimes, being known without him having to _make_ himself known wasn’t so bad.

Claude called her away before either of them could say another word. Annette squeezed his fingers one last time before letting go, her eyes warning him to watch himself.

Felix watched them walk away until the tunnel swallowed them into darkness. Then he stiffened his shoulders, conjured his own small, flickering ball of flame, and ventured deeper into Abyss.

For once, he hated how… _alone_ he walked. Every twitching shadow could be an enemy, every drip of water a stranger splashing through a puddle. His heart beat so loudly he worried a hidden foe _could_ hear it and locate him, and his right hand never strayed far from the hilt of his sword.

More lights ignited the path, more torches with their flames throwing sparks into the damp air. He felt dark, malevolent, half-hidden eyes on him and resisted the impulse to stiffen more than he had. Instead he held his chin up, his step steady, and reminded himself he could meet any challenge if his survival - if Annette’s survival - depended on it.

He didn’t flinch when armed men began to flank him, tracking his progress, their shadows drifting alongside his. He ignored their jeers except to scoff, their insults and jibes little worse than a breeze, and plowed on ahead until he stepped through the entrance of a wide cavern.

His heart jumped into his throat when he recognized the chamber from the schematic, that ahead of him extended a bridge barely wide enough for two men to walk abreast, and that on either side of him yawned a fathomless chasm.

Felix swallowed, his step faltering until the hilt of a sword nudged him in the back. “You’re here,” one of the men goaded him, “and the only way out is forward.”

“Oh, good,” he bit out before he could stop himself, but at least his tone didn’t betray his…trepidation.

He wished he could dismiss his pounding pulse as easily as he did other concerns, or that his mind didn’t flit to Annette and wonder how she and Claude fared. But as he kept walking forward and deliberately ignored the void all but dragging at him, he wished a sword provided any defense against it.

Even his own bloodline’s infernal Relic would do him no good as a shield here.

Gangrel’s mob dogged his footsteps, cutting off an easy, bloodless retreat, and ahead the bridge widened into a wide platform upon which Gangrel himself perched on a throne.

Well, “throne” was probably too generous a word, as it looked more like a worn - but once rich, undoubtedly - armchair than anything any king, even a dead one, would sit while holding court. Yet there Gangrel sat, as proud as a king but with no crown on his head, just a gold tooth glinting behind the split lip Felix gave him and Failnaught resting on his lap.

He sucked in a breath at the sight of the giant bow, his heart skipping a beat. He couldn’t see any sign of Annette or Claude on the bridge behind Gangrel, so perhaps he could just…snatch Failnaught and flee with it.

But if he pulled a stunt like that, he would have a hoard of angry men on his heels and would lead them straight into his unwitting companions.

Felix halted before Gangrel’s makeshift throne and glared up at him.

Gangrel’s lips, the split one that gave him the briefest flash of satisfaction included, pulled into a smirk. “Ah, so it’s you again,” he said before Felix could think what to say. “To what do I owe this pleasure? And where”—his steely gaze flitted past Felix—”is your lordling and your charming little girlfriend?”

Felix didn’t bat an eye at his insinuation and only explained in as steady a voice as he could, “I reconsidered your offer. I left the…lordling to seek employment with you.”

“And your girlfriend in turn left you for him, did she?”

Felix scowled - Annette was not his girlfriend, it didn’t matter, Gangrel was just trying to goad him, she was only with Claude because the plan worked better if he approached him alone - but held his tongue.

Gangrel leaned forward, his elbow resting on his thigh and bracketing Failnaught against his abdomen. “What makes you think my offer even still stands?” He tapped his purpling jaw where Felix’s fist had connected with it at the tavern. “You were so happy to refuse.”

The men behind him tittered as if their “king” said something funny, but Felix paid them no mind.

He licked his lips, mind searching for some excuse, and tried not to betray with his face the instant Annette and Claude entered the cavern at the opposite end of the bridge behind Gangrel. “I…realized that I didn’t owe the lordling my loyalty when it’s gotten me nothing in return,” he said to the cadence of a twinge in his chest he shoved aside. “Why should I die in a pointless war on the surface when I can live here in Abyss?”

Gangrel appraised him, looking far more thoughtful than Felix thought a bastard like him capable of. He swallowed, as if that did anything for the nerves twisting his stomach into knots, and didn’t take a step back when Gangrel deigned to stand from his throne and approach him.

“And what will you do if I refuse?” he wondered in a low, dangerous voice. He balanced Failnaught on his shoulder much like Claude would, though his right hand rested lovingly on the head of the ax dangling from his belt.

“Does it matter?” Felix retorted. Sweat trickled down his brow as Annette and Claude inched closer. He kept his gaze on Gangrel’s forehead if not his eyes, but their motion proved…distracting. What if Gangrel’s men spotted them before they neared enough?

“Oh, it matters very much,” Gangrel said. Felix didn’t flinch when he fisted the front of his coat, much like he did in the tavern, and he only stiffened his spine as he dragged him closer. “I can tell you’re strong, so what if I refuse and you leave and offer your services to one of my rivals? Yes, the Mockingbird would make good use of you.”

Felix grabbed his hand, squeezing until he let go and shoving it away, but with his eyes on Failnaught. “I’m new in Abyss,” he admitted. “I don’t even know who the ‘Mockingbird’ is, but if you’re so worried about that, wouldn’t it be easy enough to make sure you hired me first?”

“You’re right,” said Gangrel, “it would be easier, but I have another solution in mind.”

Felix’s pulse pounded and his hand flew to the hilt of his sword the instant Gangrel made to shove him into his waiting men. His arms flailed, but he kept his balance, prepared for some subterfuge, and drew his blade.

They surrounded him on all sides, any hope of retreat that wasn’t off the edge into a chasm thin as a wisp of smoke and slipping through his fingers just as quickly. He grasped it anyway and lashed out at the nearest man.

He ducked before striking out at him with his own sword. This one was too slow, and Felix darted from the path of his strikes…only to stumble into another, larger thug that seized him by the shoulders.

Felix struck up with his left fist, smirking when met with a satisfying crunch under his knuckles, and wrenched himself away. His heart beat against his ribs, the thrill of a fight filling him while his foes converged.

If they thought they had strength in numbers, he would show them their mistake.

The tip of his sword sliced open the arm of one, blood dripping in an arch when he pulled it away to lash out again, but before he could exult in that tiniest of victories, pain blossomed at the back of his head.

Stars and black spots alike crowded his vision, and when he tried to take a step towards his retreating enemies he faltered. Nausea filled him when he blinked, and the hilt of his sword slipped from his grasp as he teetered.

“N-no…” he mumbled when rough hands seized him by his cape and his arms and legs. He thrashed against their grip, his heart now beating an awful, chilling fear through his body, but the men holding and _carrying_ him like he was already little more than a corpse they interred paid his struggles no mind.

“Thank you for the sport, boy,” Gangrel said as his men carted Felix around. “Bold of you to think you could’ve fought us all by yourself, but that’s enough for now.”

Felix jerked his aching head around, searching for some kind of advantage. His spare sword still swung from his belt, but much good it would do him while he couldn’t even reach for it.

Much good it would serve against the chasm clawing for him.

“Good thing I’m merciful,” Gangrel said, laughing in a way that didn’t sound very merciful at all. “You’ll die instantly once you hit the bottom, and on the way you’ll get to think back on your life and all your regrets. Wish you’d taken my offer in the tavern yet?”

At last Felix’s foggy eyes focused on him, standing over him with Failnaught in both hands, holding it like a trophy. His eyes narrowed, and he mustered the wherewithal to snap, “You’re a fool as well as a bastard if you think I—”

“Let him go!” a raging voice screamed.

Where the air was eerily still with no hint of a breeze an instant ago, it now roared with the force of a storm. The men holding Felix wilted against its force, and Gangrel himself spun around with an arm across his face. “What the—”

A magic sigil pulsed into life, brighter than any of the torches that burned in Abyss, and behind it stood Annette, her arms aloft with the motion of her spell and her hair whipping in the tempest she summoned, her eyes all but glowing with anger.

And Felix had never been more happy to see her in his life.

Gangrel and his thugs scrambled, taken aback by Annette’s appearance. The two holding Felix dropped him and reached for their weapons, and he rolled away from the edge of the platform, his heart racing and his hand already finding the hilt of his spare sword.

But when he jumped to his feet, his head spun and the ground tilted beneath him. “Damn, no,” he hissed at the dull throbbing at the back of his head.

Before he lost his balance, a hand grabbed his arm to steady him. He tried to wrench himself away on impulse, only for his eyes to land on Claude with his own sword drawn. “Easy there,” he said. “Why don’t you sit tight and let us take care of this one for once?”

Gangrel withstood the force of another blast of wind from Annette, his ax in his hands half-raised to strike her the instant he reached her. And Felix jerked his arm away from Claude and retorted, “Try and stop me. Just get your damn bow already.”

Claude flashed him a grin that, for once, Felix didn’t want to smack away. “Gladly.”

Felix found his footing easier to keep if he moved, so with sword in hand he made for Gangrel. He reached him the same instant the self-styled king reached Annette, and when he raised his ax Felix’s blade was there to meet it.

The only thing that kept the force behind Gangrel’s blow from knocking Felix down was his Crest flaring between them. It shoved Gangrel back a step, his lips twisted into a snarl as he raised his ax to strike again.

“Should’ve known it was a ruse!” he roared. A blast from Annette slowed his blow enough Felix could swipe under his arm and his sword bit at his flesh. His blood spattered the platform, but he didn’t falter. He swung his ax around and spat, “Die!”

It flew at him with such power Felix could only side-step it, but with his ears still ringing with the blow to his head, he wobbled, his stance weaker. He gritted his teeth with effort and struck out at Gangrel the same instant he lashed out at him.

“No!” Annette fired her strongest spell yet, and between that, the force of his blow, and Felix’s dodging, Gangrel _flew_ past him.

His foot slipped over the edge of the platform, his ax plummeting into the chasm. Felix stumbled away, his heart in his throat and already trying to shove Annette away with him, but a hand closed around his boot.

Felix fell.

“Felix!” Annette screamed.

The ground slipped out from under him and the air escaped his lungs in a single alarmed shout. He lashed out with his arms, and when his hands connected with something he grasped it, teeth gritted, resisting the chasm’s desire to suck him in, resisting the weight attached to his boot trying to drag him down with it.

He growled with frustration, resenting the forces conspiring to yank him down and towards his death. He raised his head and found Annette crouched at the edge on her hands and knees, staring down at him before her hands reached down and found his arms.

“I’ll get you back up, Felix,” she promised. “I’ll—”

Beneath him, Gangrel roared, “Oh no you don’t!” His fingers squeezed around his ankle, his dead weight dragging at Felix worse than the chasm alone would.

“Let him go, you—you thug!” Annette shouted down at him, and in any other circumstances Felix might’ve been tempted to tease her for her choice of insult.

It was all he could do to cling to the edge with Gangrel thrashing, one hand clinging to his ankle and the other scrabbling for his other leg and brushing the edge of his cape. Felix tried to kick out at him - if he fell to his death, it would only serve him right - but that only jostled him more, and his grip on the ledge faltered, his fingers sliding.

“N-no, no no,” Annette whimpered, the sound almost more detestable to him than Gangrel’s rage. She never let him go, her fingers stronger than a vice on his arm, but no matter how much she heaved - and with the bastard dangling from him - she didn’t have the strength to tug him up. “Claude! Claude, I need your help!”

The sounds of a distant battle Felix lost his stake in drifted towards them. “L-little—oh, so you wanna dance?—busy, Annette!” Claude retorted.

Annette stared down at him, her eyes wide with fear and tears streaking her face. His chest ached to see it, even now, and maybe if he didn’t literally cling on for dear life he would’ve found it in himself to cup her cheek and try to wipe the tears away.

“I’m sorry, Felix,” she mumbled.

“C-can you try hitting him with a spell?” he said.

“You could slip too,” she said, shaking her head. She fumbled along the platform for something before raising his dropped sword. “Gangrel, you _bastard_ ,” she seethed, “let him go before I sheath this through your chest!”

Gangrel laughed, though it sounded too high-pitched to be anything short of terrified. “Try it, girl!” he shouted. “I won’t die without taking your angry little boyfriend with me!”

“Just try a spell!” Felix said. A hiss escaped him when Gangrel swung too much. “Annette, I trust you, so please—”

He slipped, his grip on the ledge failing at last.

Gangrel let him go, falling backwards into the chasm. His scream reached Felix’s ears before his own, his heartbeat so loud it nearly overpowered it. His arms thrashed out, trying to reach for Annette’s hands - he needed to warn her she’d fall if she leaned too far over the edge - only for his back to give a great jerk.

A gasp tore out of him as something tugged him up by the collar. He stared down into the depths of the chasm, hardly daring to believe it swallowed Gangrel…but that it might still spare him.

Hands grabbed Felix, and before he could grab back or find it in him to resist in case they belonged to enemies, he collapsed on the platform, his lungs heaving for air and his heart racing and—

Annette’s arms snaked around him, clutching him so tightly he could barely draw breath. “A-Annette,” he tried to warn her, but when she started to pull away, he found he didn’t want her to let go.

He embraced her, the last of his strength perfect to hold her against him, to feel her warm and alive and know he lived too.

A slight tugging at his back made Felix stiffen, but when he turned he only found Claude, Failnaught clutched in one hand while he tried to wrangle something tangled in his cape with the other. “Sorry about, ah, ruining the moment,” he said, “and sorry about ruining your nice Faerghus furs, Felix.” He raised an arrow with a rope tied to the shaft, a smug grin curving his lips.

Annette, blessedly still crouching in the fold of Felix’s arms, sighed, but when she glanced at him, she smiled.

It made warmth bloom in his chest, and maybe it was almost enough to distract him from all his other complaints.

Like the blow to his head, or any new bruises or aches in his body, or that Claude’s arrow probably left a hole in his cape he’d have to mend.

But…it did save his life. Felix swallowed and nodded at Claude. “Thank you,” he said, “though I’m not sure a bow, even if it is a Relic, was worth me nearly dying for.” He scowled at him, hoping he understood the depth of his displeasure with all…this.

Claude laughed and rubbed the back of his neck before admitting, “I’m not sure either, but thank you for it anyway!”

Felix’s heartbeat throbbed at the back of his head. He slowly stood, Annette letting him balance against her while he clutched at his head. “Where’s my sword?” he mumbled.

He missed her leaning into his side when she pulled away to pick it up where she must’ve dropped it, though he kept his footing with minimal wobbling. “You’d better leave anymore trouble to me,” she warned him, her gaze sharp on him.

Felix’s face warmed under her scrutiny. He accepted his blade back from her and sheathed it - more clumsily than he’d ever care to admit - at his side. “I make no promises,” he said. He met her eyes and wondered if he heard the unspoken sentiment behind his words: that he couldn’t make that promise, for her sake.

Maybe she did, because her cheeks colored and she tore her gaze away from him first. “You’re such a villain,” she grumbled under her breath. “First you go five years without writing to me once, and now you—you nearly fall to your death right in front of me.”

He opened his mouth to make some apology - what else could he do when her words made his insides twist worse than his fear earlier? - but his jaws clicked shut when her arms slipped around him again and her forehead fell against his chest, right over where his heart beat - too fast, but steadily and alive. He rested his hand on the small of her back, his other arm wrapping around her waist. He pressed his cheek against her hair and took a deep breath before he haltingly said, “I-I’m sorry, I should’ve—I really did m—”

Claude clapped his hands, interrupting as he stood over the bodies - some still alive and groaning in pain - of Gangrel’s thugs lying nearby. “Now”—he cupped his chin, gaze thoughtful as it roved around the cavern—”Yuri has to accept my offer since we’ve gone through all the trouble of beheading one of his rival gangs, and with his help—”

“If you don’t stop talking,” Felix cut him off, glowering from over Annette’s head, “I’ll throw you over that ledge there myself.”

Claude’s eyes widened and he blinked at them, looking, for the first time since they ventured into Abyss, surprised. “Oh, sorry,” he said, raising his hands.

Annette pulled away from Felix then - though she spared a glare for Claude - and said, “Let’s just return to the Monastery. I’m hungry.”

He resisted the urge to tug her back and instead prodded, “For some crumbs and—”

“ _Shut up_ , Felix!” she snapped, but he didn’t miss her blush or her smile.

**Author's Note:**

> From now on i'm dedicating any and all bar fights I write to Mere, who made me realize bar fights are actually really fun to write. it was also my first time writing Claude, so that was fun. and there's a decided lack of netteflix outside Azure Moon so...this is a void i hope to fill a little more in the future.
> 
> You can also [sign a petition or donate to a fund](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/).
> 
> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you thought <3


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